


Dressing Room Fan Club

by The_Transcendent



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Bondage, Bukkake, Cumplay, Double Penetration, Emetophilia, Facials, Group Sex, Guro, I mean he's a robot but sorta guro???, Lubricant, Monsters, Multi, Multiple Partners, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Other, Restraints, Robot Sex, Scratching, Sorta vomit anyway, Sub!Mettaton, Vomiting, drool, saliva
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 05:10:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5730655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Transcendent/pseuds/The_Transcendent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A select few fans are allowed to experience one of Mettaton's private gatherings. They tend to play out on the messy side. </p><p>But think of the ratings, darling!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dressing Room Fan Club

**Author's Note:**

> Another one dedicated to two of my wonderful, albeit perverse, friends. 
> 
> This one's for you. <3

               

Let it never be said that Mettaton was not the most gracious of hosts to his loyal fans.

He lay there on his back, arms behind his head in a roguish display of nonchalance as one of his _dear, sweet darlings_ rode his favourite phallic attachment. Their fingers dug in tightly to his hips as they bucked, their faint whimpering muffled only slightly by their own lip biting. Eying the clock hung on the wall of his dressing room, a smirk played about his lips as he prepared himself for the night's entertainment.

His partner spasmed as they came, the viscous liquid dripping over the casing of his pelvis as they clenched around him before collapsing forward. Their reddened lips met his own soft silicone ones, stopping only long enough to chuckle against him before they attacked his collar, the smooth silicone of his shoulder pads, his abdomen and ever so tenderly on his heart. 

Mettaton closed his eyes and sighed happily, running his tongue over his teeth as he felt his darling fan's sharp teeth dig into his inner thigh. The gears in his hips and knees shuddered as he reflexively jerked, but he held them steady. A rough tongue dragged its way from the base of his cock to the tip, and then those delightful teeth softly clasped over the head. Unable to hold back his tremors now, Mettaton bucked up as his ‘attacker’ took his entire length into their mouth, teeth scraping and tongue tightly wrapped around him as if to keep him in place.

Through the writhing sensations of his pelvis, he noticed two things. One was the wet slick of his own drool - an unusual use for the internal lubricant, certainly, but one that he had insisted to Alphys was just _imperative_ for this form - dripping from the corner of his gasping mouth over his chin. Instinctively, he reached out to wipe the drool away. Then he registered the second thing.

The second thing, as it happened, was the faint chime of his clock, marking it to be exactly eleven in the evening. No sooner had the first two chimes rung out, than a firm pair of clawed hands grabbed his wrists and pulled his arms back, pinning him flat to the table.

_They were right on time._

Mettaton heard a tearing noise and glanced to one side to see one of his dressing gowns being torn, before the freed strip of fabric was tightly wrapped around his eyes. He could only then concentrate on the pressure that kept his arms flattened, and the gorgeous, constrictive pleasure of his cock as he was blown.

As a single, saliva-slathered digit pressed teasingly against his ass (another thing he had _insisted_ that Alphys include. He wanted every pleasure a corporeal form could give, thank-you-very-much), he felt another two worm their way into his mouth, prising his jaws apart and playing with his tongue. They pinched at it, pulling it out of his mouth and letting his gooey drool splatter over his cheeks, running off and dripping onto the floor.

The fingers pushed Mettaton’s jaw wider still, and his soft pleasured humming was muffled as a much larger _thing_ was pushed into his mouth. As the thick cock pushed its way into his lube-coated throat, his moans were garbled; It was deep enough to smother his inner speakers directly now. Mettaton’s eyes flickered and dimmed as his sensory drives found themselves working overtime, his cooling fan coming to life with a high whirring and a faint gurgling as he felt coolant be redirected. His fingers curled and almost dug into the mahogany surface of the table he was pinned to.

The finger at his rear was still teasing, moving in slow lazy circles as the owner still worked their tongue and teeth over his member, throatily chuckling at every twitch and tense of his legs. They had gouged small but prominent scratches from his groin to his knees, leaving the scratches to ooze residual coolant in fluorescent blue trickles.

Even with the pressure on his wrists, it was becoming harder to keep still as the larger monster, around twice the size of Mettaton and who felt to be pure muscle and claw, panted and thrust into his throat, almost growling at the sensation of the robot’s pulsing larynx. Between the speakers still trying to express his moans through the assault and the fans trying to cool his core, it was almost vibrating as it was fucked.

His wrists were free now, he noticed, because the hands that had pinned them down were now firmly grasping him by the throat as he was roughly thrust into again and again until the thick mix of precum and what he called saliva were coating most of his face and the toned abdomen of the monster who was fucking him. The monster whose breath was coming haggardly and whose hands were tightening, threatening to dent the metal of his exterior casing. The same monster who was now deeply groaning as they shot cum down into his throat.

The taste overwhelmed him, a sickly yet delicious richness too sudden and forceful to noisily gulp down all at once. He felt it fill his cheeks, joining the other fluids leaking from his mouth and nose.

 _He really had to have a word with Alphys about allowing some control over his artificial sinuses… Perhaps._

Of course, Mettaton didn’t strictly _need_ to eat to continue living. This didn’t mean he couldn’t though, food being one of life’s many pleasures, but it _did_ mean he was able to choose when his inner systems disposed of what he ate and when he let them… Linger around to be enjoyed for longer.

The cock being swiftly pulled from his throat, he felt himself being made to sit up, one hand still firmly around his throat while the other brought his hands away from the table and pinned behind his back. A second rough tongue ran its way from his jaw to behind his ear, lapping the stray cum from his visage before whispering a sweet, filthy nothing into his ear.

He revelled in the sensation of being so full and utterly _used_ by his adoring fans. Adoring fans who had paid a premium, yes, and who were being recorded, true, but adoring fans nonetheless. And his adoring fans, to boot! But full as he was, he wasn’t quite _finished_ with it yet.

A faint hissing came from Mettaton’s abdomen as his system purged itself, slowly oozing the pearlescent mix of cum and twinkling violet lubricant from his mouth, dripping down over his torso to join the castoffs from the act on his carpet. His fans didn’t baulk at the mess. This was part of the service. Though, they weren’t exactly going to let it go at nothing.

“Looks like the superstar’s made a mess.” Grunted the enormous bulk of a monster that had been ravaging his throat.

“It does...” Said a softer, warmer voice from the armchair in the corner. At least one other had paid to watch, for now. “That just won’t do. Would you be so kind, love?” The question was directed to the petite monster still keeping his cock firmly between their teeth.

Claws dug further into his thighs and the pressure on the base of his cock increased as the monster bit down much harder than they had been before. If Mettaton had prehensile toes, they would have curled as the fastenings keeping his phallic accessory gave way and it was torn from his body. As it was, he wordlessly moaned and then cried out and shuddered violently before collapsing backward into the larger monster’s arms. 

Though the function had been turned off that evening, Mettaton was indeed functionally equipped to both orgasm and ejaculate, and where his penis was latched into place, there was a duct to provide him with lubricant to act as semen. He was slowly yet persistently dripping from this, the same viscous and faintly sparkling violet gel that dripped from his mouth. 

“D-darlings, would you plea-” was all Mettaton managed to say before his own severed cock was shoved into his mouth as a rudimentary gag, fixed in place with another strip of his dressing gown. He’d probably need a new one after this.

New hands were on him now, warm and gentle but not tender, methodically lifting his legs from the table and pushing his knees up to his chest. He gurgled a choked purr around his own cock as he felt the new figure rub the head of their own cock against the as yet untouched opening.

Suddenly, they were deep inside him and Mettaton’s back arched as he hissed in pleasure, his delightful fan’s pelvis rhythmically pounding into his thighs as he was ravished deeply. Strong hands pushed his back toward this newcomer, and he found his hands free to wrap around their shoulders. Clinging on with his legs, he felt those precise, warm hands cup his rear and keep his body in time as he was fucked.

Resting his head on a firm shoulder, Mettaton almost lost himself to the overwhelming sensation. His motors where almost whining with him, his eyes were flickering between bright, dark and off states and his own moans were becoming distorted and glitched, moreso with every thrust. He was faintly aware of one of his hands tightly wrapped around another cock, and a pair of firm breasts rubbing against his arm, and the sensation of many, many tongues and teeth over every inch of his metal and plastic frame. His own fluids were hungrily lapped up and new scuffs and bites were added to claim as much of his beautiful self as was on offer, at least for the evening.

Mettaton had done quite well, he thought, at keeping it together as he was worshipped and debased by his darlings. He felt a new anxiousness, albeit one deliciously cut with anticipation, when he felt the same huge form that had claimed his mouth behind him, his cock back and ready as it pressed against the small of his back. He felt the one who was gentle but not kind lift his form, allowing the other monster to line up with his ass, bracing their two shovel-sized hands on his shoulder plates.

The veneer was almost dropped for a half second as they hesitated, and Mettaton could feel inquisitive eyes on his quivering form, but then the moment is gone as he has relaxed his legs enough to allow his weight to drop and the larger cock to push deep into his ass. He choked back a scream of pleasure, and his arms went limp as he was fully impaled by them both.

The rudimentary gag was pulled from his mouth and his disembodied penis fell to the floor with a faint splash. The carpet was probably ruined.

He cried out, but what it was he was crying was too distorted and jostled by his activities to make out, even to himself. His head rolled back and his eyes whited out completely, his lolling tongue freely hanging from his mouth as it was caught in an almighty fucked-silly grin. His two beautiful fans continued to pound him for what seemed to Mettaton like both an eternity and a second, before he once again registered the heavy panting of the larger monster as a cue that the night was winding down. If his other loyal devotee was on the brink of climax, they didn’t show it. 

Suddenly he was _full_ again, his core teetering on the edge of the rails as it fought to keep cool. As he had cum poured into him for the second and third time that evening, an override function was activated, redirecting unnecessary power to where it was needed.

With a loud smack, Mettaton’s right arm fell limp and crashed to the floor, shortly followed by the left. His motors slowed down as the strain was relieved, and though he was still blindfolded, his vision flashed white. With one final “Oh yes!”, Mettaton reached his equivalent of a climax for the evening.

He was faintly aware of being laid back down onto the table, still slick with his fluids. He felt a warmth and splattering as the few guests who hadn’t joined in directly paid him their respects by marking him as they prepared to leave. He savoured the taste, as well as the shame of his debauchery.

As he prepared to temporarily shut down to let his systems recover, he couldn’t help but smile as he imagined how Burgerpants would react to all this mess.

_His face!_

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on the-transcendent.tumblr.com, or phasmagasm.tumblr.com for more smut. <3
> 
> Hope you enjoyed~!


End file.
